


lost causes

by ozmissage



Category: Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-18
Updated: 2012-01-18
Packaged: 2017-10-29 18:24:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozmissage/pseuds/ozmissage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alaric is old enough to know better than to pin his entire sense of purpose on an eighteen-year-old. But he does it anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	lost causes

He thinks of her as his patron saint.

 _Savior_ , even.

This is not healthy. Alaric is old enough to know better than to pin his entire sense of purpose on an eighteen-year-old. It’s not fair. But he does it anyway.

-

She kisses him first. It’s an angry kiss, hard and determined; her teeth graze his lip drawing blood. She kisses like her mother.

He pushes her away, his hands shoving lightly at her thin shoulders.

“Elena,” he says, voice pleading. She has to stop this because he knows he can’t.

“I just…I need to stop thinking…”

The Salvatores’ names are left unsaid, but they linger there in the silence all the same.

Alaric shakes his head and reaches out to touch her face lightly, the muscles in his stomach clinching when she leans into the touch.

“Not like this,” he says.

-

He waits until he hears her footsteps disappearing up the stairs, the sound of her door clicking shut, then he takes out a bottle of whiskey and pours.

One glass, two glasses-- _to forget_ , he thinks, toasting the empty room.

-

The sudden weight of her, light as she is, wakes him.

He blinks bleary-eyed up at the curtain of dark hair shielding his view. _Elena_. She’s straddling him on the couch, her small hands pressed against his bare chest.

“You’re not the only lost cause around here, Ric,” she whispers.

She’s eighteen, but she sounds so much older than she has any right to be, and Alaric knows if he does this, it will make her older still. He places his hands on her hips with the intent to push her away, but Elena catches his hands, her fingers tightening on his wrists as she rocks her hips against him.

Alaric draws a shaky breath and she moves again, her grip tightening as she pushes his arms behind his head, pinning him to the couch with her body.

“We can’t do this,” he says. Elena ignores him, increasing the friction between their bodies as she leans down to kiss his chest and Alaric’s body betrays, thrusting up to meet her without his permission.

There’s nothing between them but his boxer shorts and her thin cotton underwear and a tank top he can almost see through.

She moves her face up to his neck and nips at his shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave a mark before lapping at it with her tongue. Her nails are digging into his wrists and it’s all too much—

He feels her body trembling, her movement slowing and Alaric comes in his boxer shorts like a teenage boy.

She stops moving, finally releasing his arms. There is blood under her nails.

“Thank you,” she says and gets up without another word, leaving him shaking and sweating, the moon shaped imprint of her nails lingering on his wrists.

Dimly, he wonders if they will leave a scar.

-

He finishes the bottle.


End file.
